It Ends Bloody
by agent iz hyper
Summary: 'They stood there, within reach... Due an unforgettable lesson in destiny.' / When Sam finds himself going from avoiding angels and demons and the Devil to being thrown back a few years to when he had to save Dean from Hell (and vice versa), is it a second chance to change things, or is it a lesson that he can't avoid his fate - that neither of them can? / Set in both season 3 & 5.
1. Prologue

**IT ENDS BLOODY**

* * *

_They said this day wouldn't come  
__We refused to run  
__We've only just begun  
__You'll find us chasing the sun_

**~Chasing the Sun~ The Wanted**

* * *

**PROLOGUE.**

The air was disturbed. There were intruders – the museum was always empty by nightfall, its outer barriers sealed shut to protect the precious artefacts inside.

Clearly not sealed well enough, as the two men were able to find a way in quite easily.

They moved with the grace of skilled hunters, well-practiced in their ways, and a swift silence that left the air behind them quivering in its lethality. Motion detectors and cameras were easily disabled – the tall one worked them quickly as his slightly older partner scanned the room with expert eyes, catching details in the dark corners that others would overlook.

He didn't see _it_, but then no-one did... unless it wanted them to. Unless they threatened it, as the last foolish beings had. Their demise had been unavoidable – they could not be left wandering with the small amount of knowledge they had gained from it. Knowledge that fuelled a sense of power which not all humans could handle... or know what to do with.

That was clearly what these hunters were here for. For centuries it had guarded the Tablet, and it knew _hunters_ when it saw them. _Sensed_ them – the darkness inside of them, left as a result of living in shadows too dark for man to bear. And when they caught wind of the Tablet, they had to seek it out. And it had no choice but to end them if they got too close.

The Tablet of Destinies was not for all to truly see.

As it watched – masked, always hidden but seeing all that happened around it – the hunters began their search. They were efficient, locating the Tablet's location faster than most, and working much more swiftly than any other hunters it had encountered. They seemed to move around each other with a fluidity that suggested they were simply an extension of one another... yet, there was something there. The smooth professional surface glossed over the cracks beneath, running all the way to each one's very soul.

And as they came to stand before the glass casing surrounding the Tablet (merely a necessity, of course – its ancient magic protected them like no man-made object ever could), it _knew_.

It knew who these two hunters were. What they had done.

In ancient times, it had proudly fought to regain the Tablet's power for the gods, and now its very essence was that of human fate and destiny. It had watched over mankind for centuries, ensured equality in matters of life and death. The Tablet of Destinies had been conjured as recordings of destiny's rules – a guideline of sorts to make sure no-one fell back on the beliefs of what should and shouldn't happen, to guarantee that the laws of mankind and providence were not tampered with. For one man to do so would disrupt the whole balance and it would tumble down to rubble at their feet.

As time passed, the people eventually neglected the old beliefs. The Tablet was disregarded in its reality and passed around the world as relics to be studied and examined. Preserved in a museum for onlookers to pass by with a disinterested glance, unable to decipher the ancient words.

But it never truly faded. It stayed, it watched. It heard things and learned more. It _knew_.

It knew that there were possibly no humans in the world who had brought such chaos unto the rulings of fate than the brothers Winchester.

They stood there, within reach... Due an unforgettable lesson in _destiny_.

* * *

**A/N:** I bring you the teaser prologue of _It Ends Bloody_! Chapter one is more or less complete, I think, and school is more or less out for the summer, soo… more writing time for moi. *grins*

Would love to hear your thoughts on this beginning. Intrigued yet? Reviews are love. Kinda like iceblocks in this unbearable heat. Yum. :3

Alrighty. That's all from me. Peace out~

izzy.


	2. CHAPTER ONE (2010)

**IT ENDS BLOODY**

_A/N – Hey there! Thanks so much to everyone who read and/or reviewed the prologue. :D Totally appreciate it! Hope you guys enjoy this chapter. ;)_

* * *

_One minute I held the key  
__Next the walls were closed on me  
__And I discovered that my castles stand  
__Upon pillars of salt, pillars of sand_

**~Viva la Vida~ Coldplay**

* * *

**1. Just a Puppet on a Lonely String **

_[10 March, 2010]_

(Shortly after "Dark Side of the Moon".)

They were far from okay, but this was a hunt they couldn't ignore.

Not that Dean had ever really been able to _ignore_ hunts but there was no doubt that there were bigger fish to fry at the moment. However, the fact that there were other hunters out there to take care of more normal 'jobs' had eased his conscience, knowing that at least people _weren't_ dying from vengeful spirits and poltergeists while _they_ fended off angels and demons.

It would help if those hunters didn't try to kill him and his brother in the process, of course, but they never got off that easy.

But then, they caught wind of something here that got hunters who'd investigated it killed and no way could they walk away from that. Hunters weren't any use to those people who the Winchesters couldn't seem to save if they were all dead. So they looked into it.

It was a relief to focus on something _normal_ for once. Dean was able to – temporarily, anyway – shove away all thoughts of, well, _everything_ out of his mind and work on the job, piecing together clues, hatching a plan to get them into the museum.

It seemed that his brother liked this hunt too – the guy got to geek out for the first time in ages, and Dean would be lying if he claimed it wasn't good to see him get all fascinated and worked up over the artefact they were here for. However much they'd been through, even all the hurt and betrayal of the past year, it couldn't change the basic brotherly instincts honed from a whole lifetime beforehand.

The _Tablet of Destinies_, Sam had said, before relaying everything he'd managed to find out about it while Dean nodded, absorbing the words even as his mind worked overtime. If he ignored the sense of foreboding that hung over them, the odd dull ache in his chest right where a certain amulet should be laying, and just focused on the familiarity of the hunt then he could almost – _almost_ – pretend everything was okay.

As it was, their hunting was still as up to par as it had always been. They snuck in, kept a look out, and found what they were looking for all in a matter of silent minutes. They didn't need words to do _that_ part of the hunt.

As they neared the Tablet with cautious steps, Dean felt the first inklings of wariness seep into his mind. He stopped, inches before the glass, and glanced sideways at Sam. His brother's eyes were transfixed on the ancient clay relic, the furrow between his eyebrows suggesting he was trying to decipher the words – pictograms, really – there. Dean had no doubt he knew parts of the language, geek-boy that he still was, but they had no time now. He shrugged his duffel off his shoulder, setting it down near his feet.

"Alright. Let's crack this sucker," he said, nudging his brother.

Sam blinked and turned to him, looking slightly troubled. "Dean."

"What?" grunted Dean, rifling through the bag.

"This is..." He glanced up then at the hesitation, hearing the odd waver where Sam's voice was usually strong.

Dean stood when he caught the look of trepidation covering his brother's face and scanned the room automatically. "What is it?"

Sam moved even closer to the display, his hand reaching out until it almost glossed the surface and an expression of awe placed the previous unease on his face. Alarmed at the change, Dean stepped forward and grabbed his brother's arm, pulling him away with a harsh cry of "_Hey!_"

Startled out of his daze, Sam stumbled back, eyes wide as they sought Dean out. He froze then, gaze sliding to the shadows behind his brother and lips opening to spell out a warning- but it was too fast for either Winchester. Dean had only time enough to half-turn in reaction to Sam's shock before the darkness seemed to swarm out, spreading beyond the corners of the room to envelope them. Sight was lost at once, immediately followed by all other senses as the black shrouded them, suffocating and cutting off all air... until they both knew no more than the beckoning call of oblivion.

**XX**

Coming to was a slow process. Dean felt like he was drowning in a sightless, endless haze of shadows. He clawed against the torrents threatening to pull him back, forcing his way out of a grip he felt but couldn't see, until he seemed to surface. Like breaking through water, he shot up with a greedy gasp for air, heart pumping a staccato beat underneath Enochian-etched ribs.

Widening his eyes to get as much stock of his dark surroundings as he could, Dean did a quick evaluation – small, clustered room, looked like it was a cast-off sort of place for the museum's lesser valued relics. His gaze jumped from the dull objects to automatically search for his brother, finding him directly behind him and looking around sluggishly, eyebrows furrowed in an all-too-familiar bemused expression.

Dean shifted upright, dragging Sam's attention to him immediately. He didn't miss the stark relief that all but vanished his uncertainty.

"Dude, what the hell happened?" Dean asked roughly instead of the almost instant urge to ask _"You alright?"_ His brother could take care of himself without needing to be checked on every five seconds.

Sam blinked, swallowed, and looked around again. He looked like he was waiting for something to pop out of the shadows... which, Dean conceded, he most likely was. "No clue."

"Did you see what it was, though?"

He shook his head slowly, glancing at Dean with an air of trepidation that had the older Winchester narrowing his eyes. "It was just... I don't know, man. Like a growing shadow behind you."

"Okay," said Dean in a mutter as he got to his feet. He pulled out his Colt, flexing his grip around the familiar metal. "As helpful as this recap is, I say we find a way outta here and-"

"Uh... Dean?"

"What?" He turned to see his brother standing stock-still and staring towards the far right corner of the room with wide eyes. Dean followed his gaze and cursed.

"I don't think we're going anywhere soon..."

The shadows shifted and swarmed closer, making both brothers instinctively back up until their backs hit an old fancy-looking rack. They stood still then, watching with a morbid fascination as the darkness seemed to gather around itself to form a tall foreboding shape. Well over six feet tall, the shadows swarmed closer and tighter, until it seemed as though the brothers were facing a large heavily cloaked figure, shaded hood obscuring its features and slithers of black encroaching their personal space. If the dark figure was a man, he would have been crossing his arms and staring them down unflinchingly – as it was, the form stood where it was and simply radiated ancient power that just _dared_ them to cross it.

Dean, of course, had to break the silence first. "Just a shot in the dark," he muttered to Sam, never taking cautious eyes off their adversary. "But I'd say that's the reason all those hunters are gone."

"You don't say," Sam mumbled in response. Judging by the vast amounts of wariness seeping from him, Dean judged that not only had Sam guessed who their captor was from lore, but also what his job was.

Funnily enough, he got the feeling the dude hadn't been a postman back in the day.

"Winchesters."

They startled.

"And it speaks."

"Dean, shut up," Sam hissed.

The Shadow-man came closer and the brothers instinctively tried to shuffle back – unsuccessful due to the fact that they were pressed as far back as they could go anyway. It stopped a couple of feet away but those shadows were slippery, inching towards them and circling around until Dean had to quell the urge to try to kick them away from his ankles. It probably wouldn't have done anything anyway.

He forced his gaze away from them up to where he assumed the thing's face was, under the hood-shaped shadows well above his eye line. "So you know our names," he said evenly. "Mind sharing yours, make the playing ground a bit fairer?"

Its voice was neither male nor female – it wasn't even really a _voice_, as much as a _sound_ forming words that glided like shadows into their ears and echoed through their minds with that ever-present power radiating off it. Dean would be lying horribly if he said he wasn't impressed, but not so much if he admitted to being phased into fear. The intimidation factor sort of lost its appeal somewhere around crossroad demons and Hell.

"Identity is neither here nor there," it said.

"You're the guardian, aren't you?" Sam breathed, shifting slightly so he could stand at his full height. Dean blinked when he realised that the guardian Shadow-man made even his Sasquatch of a little brother look short. "The _prostatis_ of the Tablet."

The thing – prostatis? – was silent for a moment. Dean liked to think it was an impressed sort of silence, like it had to stop and consider its bad-guy actions because '_crap, these guys actually know things_'. The perks of having a geeky brother-slash-hunting-partner. They knew more than the bad guys expected them to.

"I am," it eventually said. "Many knew me as Marduk, champion of the gods, before I was set to guard the Dup Shimati after Death reclaimed my soul."

"The what now?"

"It's the Tablet's name in Sumerian," Sam answered.

"Right." Dean looked on at 'Marduk', eyebrow raised. "So much for identities not mattering." He glanced around casually. "So what's with the kidnapping? Why not just kill us on the spot like you did the other hunters? What makes us so special?"

Apparently, that was funny, because the thing actually _laughed_. Evil cackling be damned, the low chuckle that reverberated in his head was one of the creepiest things Dean had ever heard. He suppressed a shudder, saw Sam do the same with a hard swallow.

"A fine question," the _prostatis_ mused, gliding forward until all they could see were the shadows surrounding it. "What is it about the Winchester name that renders you invincible?"

Dean stared. "Okay, you lost me." _Invincible?_ He glanced sideways at Sam to share a bewildered look but his brother's attention was transfixed ahead.

His words were ignored. "What law of the universe gives you the free will to play with fate as if it were nothing but a meaningless game?" One of the shadow tendrils was uncomfortably close to his face now and another, he noticed with some alarm, was slowly circling Sam. His retort died on his lips as it continued talking, making coherent thought near impossible.

"You toy with Death and walk away unscathed. You refuse to tread the path chosen for you." The brothers' wide eyes met then, a shared look of '_not this again_', but then Sam broke the contact as he jerked back with a gasp – the lower half of his body was now encircled in shadows and they crept up even more, capturing him in their tight (if Sam's pained face was any indicator) grip. "You defy," the _prostatis_ continued quietly as Dean glowered, trying to free his own limbs and losing his gun in the process; "the basic rules…" Sam's shoulders and head were now the only things visible from among the shadows and Dean was quickly coming to the horrible realisation that he couldn't get free; "of life, of destiny."

"Screw you," Dean shot back. He pulled against the bonds restraining him again, to no avail. The fact that he was only being held back while Sam was being enclosed completely didn't escape him, but it made his struggling more fervent. "What the hell do you want?"

Sam's gasps for air were the only sounds that punctured the silence following Dean's demand. But when he got a reply, it wasn't one he could have anticipated.

"I want to teach you a lesson." Its shadow tendrils finally stopped closing in on Sam, instead cocooning him as he slumped back, eyes squinted nearly shut and breathing unsteady.

Dean scowled. "What lesson? That we should suck it up and 'play our roles'? You wanna harp on us about the importance of this destiny crap? 'Cause, sorry to tell ya, but we got the memos already."

"So I've heard. But you do not heed their words, do you? You do not _learn_ from the past. Time and time again, you have tampered with and controlled what you can. You refuse to let go and accept that not everything can go the way you planned it. And you have _failed_. Over and over..." Its tone turned musing. "Dean Winchester. Your core was to protect your brother. Your sole job was to keep him from harm. But you could not, could you? You could not go against predetermined plans. He died. You saved him, and in turn, damned him. And now, he has gone beyond your ability to save – or so you think."

Dean's mind went blank. _No. Don't go there._

"Sam Winchester." Now it actually sounded _mad_. "You… Where to begin? An abomination from the start. You thought you could fight it all along. You refused to believe it was your fate. And each time, you failed to get the results you were aiming for. You could not save your brother from going to Hell. You did not find a way to get him out. You sought revenge the only way you knew how to and let the Devil loose from there. And now you seek to right those wrongs… when this all could have been prevented if you only accepted it from the start."

Carefully not looking at his brother, Dean grunted, "So you know our life story, good for you. There a point to all this?"

"I am going to teach you a lesson," the _prostatis _repeated, advancing even closer. The room was now obscured completely as shadows overtook every inch.

"So you've said-_hey_, the hell are you doing?" Dean yelled, trying to dive forward as Sam let out a strangled "_Dean!_" and the shadow coils wrapped him completely. "Let him go!"

"You cannot always save him… But maybe this time, you will."

And just like that, it was gone. The shadows seeped back to their respective corners, the _prostatis_ dispersed among them, letting the room return to its previous poorly-lit state and Dean falling to the ground as the tendrils holding him back scattered.

"Sam?" He sat up, looked around, green eyes wide and heart thumping loudly – the only sound he could hear.

The room was empty.

* * *

**A/N:** I get iffy writing season 5, especially with Dean. And _especially_ after 'Dark Side of the Moon'. But I'm pretty darn proud of this chapter.

Also – I tinkered with legend here, the Tablet of Destinies is in Mesopotamian mythology, but it's a sort of permanent legal document ... anyway, that's all random stuff off Wikipedia, so I took basics and names and played around with them for this fic. 'Prostatis' is simply 'protector' in Greek. xP

Anywho. Explanations aside... anyone wanna take a guess at what happened to Sam or what the hell the prostatis is talking about? ;P

Special thanks to my best friend **Renae** for her beta work on this. :D Appreciate it loads, mate! :)

*waves over at **dodo*** heyy there. So I _was_ gunna send it to you but then I thought, it'll ruin the whole element of surprise thing and this way you can see the chapter in its total completed glory finally after I sent that first draft a while ago. xP So here ya go. :P

So yeah. Let me know what you thought? :D Aaaand I'll see you guys shortly with the next chapter. ;)

_Ciao_~

izzy.

(By the way. _Asdfgsjkh mid-season finale tomorrow, intense Benny episode, hiatus until next month, aaaaaaahh! *runs in circles and then keels over and dies* hahlp D:_)


	3. CHAPTER TWO (2008)

**IT ENDS BLOODY**

_A/N – Totally stoked by all your reactions and reviews regarding the first chapter! :D I'm glad you liked the beginning. Now for shit to get a bit more serious/complex-ish, uh, plot-wise… I think O.o ... I'll meet y'all at the end with a bit of an explanation. Sort of. xP Aw, what the heck. Just read on~ :)_

* * *

_Maybe it's time to change  
__And leave it all behind  
__I've never been one to walk alone  
__I've always been scared to try_

**~Maybe~ Sick Puppies**

* * *

**2. Maybe It's Hopeless**

_[10 March, 2008]_

(Roughly 2 months prior to Dean's deal ending. After "Long Distance Call".)

Tense silences were not uncommon between them. Being brothers living in such close quarters meant that being at odds with each other was unfortunately common.

Even more so lately, however much each tried to avoid it. It wasn't like they really had the time to spare to be in conflict.

A deep breath from the seat beside him told Dean that his brother was about to pick up his persistent argument, and he sighed briefly, hands tightening slightly on the steering wheel as he braced himself.

What he got wasn't quite what he was expecting, though.

"I meant what I said back there, you know."

Dean barely restrained rolling his eyes. Sam had a habit of starting conversations in his head and then expecting Dean to follow up when he continued out loud, like he could read his mind or something. And, okay, maybe he _did_ usually know what his little brother was talking about with no problem – but that was beside the point.

"Did I blank out the beginning of this convo or something?" he deadpanned.

Sam sighed in that long-suffering way that meant he thought Dean was being purposefully annoying or clueless. "_Dean_." He didn't really know how Sam did it, but the guy had a way of bleeding all his relentlessness into one syllable.

Dean reached up to drag his right hand wearily over his face. "I know you did," he said quietly, not looking at Sam, not adding anything else to acknowledge the fact that he knew perfectly well what Sam was going on about. How couldn't he? It was an earnest promise from his little brother that – no matter how much he wished it did – held no weight against the bitter truth of Dean's own statement.

"_The only person that can get me out of this thing is me."_

"_...And me."_

But how could he say that to his brother, when Sam was just doing the only thing he could think of and was trying his damn best too? He'd never been able to shoot the kid down when they were younger, and hell if he could do that now. Screw age, those goddamn dewy eyes still held the power of turning his gigantor brother into a kicked puppy. Dean would pay to see someone turn _that_ down.

"But...?" Sam added after a moment, insistent eyes never wavering in their stare.

Dean made a face and snapped out a tired, "But _nothing_, dude. What, does everything in life have to come with a catch, now?"

He _almost_ regretted the words at the pointed glower Sam shot him. "_Apparently_, yes!" he exclaimed, before turning away to glare out the window instead.

Almost.

Dean squashed down the uncomfortably guilty feeling rising in his chest and threw his focus all on the dark road instead of his angry brother. He'd rather furious over hurt any day. It was just one of those things where he couldn't really win – just either lose or lose horribly.

He'd take the lesser of two evils, if it meant keeping the damned honest truth to himself and not killing Sammy's hope and optimism – or maybe it was just denial? – along the way. That was his job, right? He only had two months left to do it, so no reason to quit now.

...Subtly deflecting any thoughts about what would happen to Sam _after_ when he wasn't there to watch out for him anymore was, by now, a perfected skill.

"Dean?"

The wariness in his brother's voice snapped his attention away from those dangerous thoughts and the poorly-lit highway. He glanced across the bench seat. "What's wrong?"

Sam was peering out his window and then turned, his eyes shifting to survey the inside of the car. "Is it just me, or did it suddenly get a whole lot darker here?"

Dean frowned and also looked around. It was just past dusk, but the lengthened shadows of the trees either side of them looked so dark Dean wasn't sure the Impala wouldn't just sink in them if he kept driving. The car's beams barely lit half the distance they were supposed to before being eaten up by the gloom. And inside... well, it would suffice to say that Dean had seen his baby's interior better lit at midnight with a barely-half moon.

"It's not just you," he eventually said. Sam cursed next to him and opened the glove box compartment to pull out the gun stored there while Dean pulled up on the shoulder and cut the purring engine.

The silence mixed with the uncanny darkness pushed against them, so thick it was almost tangible. Dean turned to his brother, about to relay instructions – but the words never made it out.

The shadows were _swarming_.

"Sam, look out!"

The warning was automatic, it served no purpose other than to give Sam a split-second's warning before he was engulfed, and then Dean had his own problems to worry about because the darkness loomed in from the open windows and the back seat and just wrapped themselves around him, cutting off everything, cutting off _Sammy_ – and he couldn't even get air to call out to him because there _was_ no air, there was no _anything_ with the shadows all over him.

He lost the fight against unconsciousness with the desperate _where's Sam what happened to him_ still burning through his mind.

**XX**

If he had expected to wake to anything besides the shadows that had obscured his vision before, he would've been sadly disappointed. Maybe if he hadn't had more important things on his mind then that could have been an issue, but as it was, waking up to a pressing darkness with no idea where he was or how his brother was or if his brother was even _there_ neatly shoved aside all other matters.

Dean pushed up from the ground with a groan, his hammering heart the only thing he could hear and his wide eyes seeing nothing but black. He might as well have kept his eyes shut for all the difference that it made.

A shuffling noise to his right had his defences up, stance shifting automatically to a crouch ready to pounce on a possible intruder and hand reaching down to his boot-knife. But the familiar voice settled his racing pulse before he could make a move.

"Dean, that you?"

Relaxing and dropping his hand, Dean let a smile tug at his lips as he carefully moved towards the voice. "Yeah, it's me." He heard the sigh of relief and reached out a hand, brushing against the fabric of what he guessed to be Sam's jacket. "You good?" He found his little brother's shoulder and clasped it, moving forward to perch beside him.

"Fine," Sam replied. The complete lack of light was uncanny and not being able to see his brother at all despite their closeness made it even more so. Dean frowned and rummaged in his pockets for his Zippo. Pulling it out, he flicked it open and held the flame up, but it was hopeless. It flickered feebly against the room's obscurity but unless he held it uncomfortably close to his face, the small fire was near invisible.

"Son of a bitch," he muttered, snapping it shut and shoving it back into his jacket. "The hell's going on?"

"Beats me," came Sam's voice from the darkness. From the way it sounded a bit further and the rustling of his clothes as he moved, Dean guessed he was checking out the room they were in. At least, he was pretty sure it was a room – somewhere indoors, anyway, because the floor was cemented and there was no sign of outside light or wind or anything. But maybe the source of the weird shadows was able to block everything off, and shit, but that wasn't a pleasant thought.

"We're in some sort of storage room, I think," Sam called out to him after a few moments. He shuffled some more until his arm hit Dean's before stopping.

Dean looked around on reflex, scowling again when all he got was more black. "How do you figure?"

"There's a shelf back there with things on it, some other big containers, all covered in dust from what I can tell."

"Great." Dean got to his knees, ready to get up. "So let's find the door."

Sam's hand snatched at his sleeve then he reaffirmed his grip, grabbing Dean's arm instead. "Dean, come on, you really think whatever got us here will let us get away that easily?"

Dean shrugged then, remembering that Sam couldn't see it, said, "Don't know until we try. C'mon, Sam." He hit his brother's hand lightly, a wordless call to get up. Dean waited while Sam huffed and then got to his feet before snagging Sam's sleeve and pulling him along, his free hand out in front of him to prevent running into something. No point in separating when they couldn't even see in front of them.

But they hadn't gone ten awkward steps before they both stilled. Something had changed, shifted.

Dean turned back, eyes flitting around him and widening in surprise as the shadows _moved_.

"Dean?" Sam backed up a step – his silhouette was now just visible – until he was beside his brother. "Should we..."

What he was going to ask, though, was lost as Dean retreated quickly and shoved Sam back with him, a wordless warning spilling from his lips in a yell. It was as if someone had a powerful vacuum and was sucking in the mists of shadows surrounding them – only, instead of disappearing altogether, they all gathered and swarmed to form a shape before the brothers. A tall, imposing figure, shrouded in shades of black so deep they sent shivers down Dean's spine, advancing on them until they were both backed into a corner.

"Sam Winchester," it spoke – and any spiteful remarks Dean had been about to make quickly dispersed before they had a chance to make it out of his mind. There was something about that genderless voice, the way it filled his head, slippery and mesmerising at once, that he couldn't immediately shake off.

"Who... what are you?" Sam asked from beside him with some difficulty.

Dean glanced at him, noting the wary narrowed eyes and tense arms held rigidly at his sides – ready for an attack – before snapping his eyes back to the shadow figure. Now he wished he had pulled out his boot-knife when he'd had the chance, because his Glock was back in the car (driving for hours with a gun pressing against you so wasn't comfortable) and he _hated_ being unarmed like this. How useful a knife would be against something made from _shadows_, though, he wasn't so sure about.

He imagined that if their captor had a face underneath that creepy shadow cowl, it would've been smugly amused. "I am the _prostatis_ of man's Destiny... but that is not of matter now."

Drawing up a blank from the odd introduction, Dean looked to Sam and saw that he had a similarly bemused frown adorning his face. He narrowed his eyes over at the prosta-thing and taunted, "Nice to meet you and all that, but mind telling us why we're here? What the hell do you want with us?" His attention having been fixed on glaring the crap out of the _prostatis_ guy, he didn't notice the wisps of shadows swirling closer to his brother until Sam sucked in a breath and he looked over to find one particularly large tendril curling itself around Sam's abdomen.

"I require your brother," it said, voice eerily calm and all the more sinister. "To, as you might say, teach a much-needed lesson."

"What's that supposed to mean, you sonuvabitch?" Dean growled. He made to move forward, ready to pummel the bastard toying with them, but found that he couldn't. Thin curls of black had drifted from the _prostatis_ and now held his arms back firmly against the wall. He tugged, but they held firm. He looked again to Sam, whose body was quickly being buried under the black. "The hell are you doing to him?" he demanded, eyes jumping from his brother to their captor and back.

Sam's legs were now obscured completely and his eyes flew up to meet Dean's, wide in panic as his breathing became more unsteady when the shadows thickened around his chest. "D-Dean-" he choked out, a plea for help and reassurance all wrapped up in one word.

Dean's jaw clenched at his little brother's predicament and he strained furiously against the bonds. "Let him _go_!"

It drifted closer, making it harder for Dean to make out Sam's figure – whether he was still conscious, whether the shadows had completely eaten him up... His deadly gaze drew back to the _prostatis_ at its next words. "You Winchesters believe yourselves capable of anything... You think you can control fate, but really, you are the puppets here. You can't change anything, no matter how hard you try or think you can." It leaned down, the air around Dean becoming suffocatingly tight as he stared unflinchingly up through the gloom. "Maybe this... will teach you not to tamper around with matters best left alone."

And before he could do anything more than turn to his brother, it moved over to Sam so fast that the brothers' eyes barely had time to meet before everything became a haze of _blackness_. It shrouded everything for a mere moment, a moment where Dean's breath stuck in his throat, where his pulse stuttered and his eyes never left the corner where his little brother had been.

A moment that, when it was over, left nothing in its wake but a stunned Dean falling to his knees from the sudden lack of bounds and staring still at an empty wall. A wall where Sam had been standing, held back, _covered_ just a heartbeat ago. An empty wall that was lit from the sudden moonlight that sifted through some window in the room, that left shadows but _only_ shadows.

It was all gone – the _prostatis_ had vanished... and Sammy with it.

* * *

**A/N:** Aaand there's the second story inside this fic. Sort of. Second half was similar to chapter one, I know, but as you'll see later on – I'm working on drawing parallels between the two. Considering just how different the brothers' dynamics were in seasons 3 and 5... yeah.

Bet a few of you have got a bit of a clue as to what's going on... right?

Also – yo **Renae**. Bro, I don't even know any more. xD But I don't like how the next chapter's turning out so far, so maybe when I send ya _that_ one you can have something to work with… instead of just sending it back with "There's nothing to be betad here!" cuz I'm starting to feel bad and I don't know why. *sheepish* Ah well. Still. Thanks. :3 Look at this way… you get the chapter's earlier than the others. :P

One last thing, sorry. Uh, so, next couple chapters might be coming slower than these ones. Half because I'll be busy the next week, and um half because I needa get my muse back onto Supernatural to write them. I've lately been suckered in the Lord of the Rings trilogy (_like why have I not seen this awesomeness before how did I live what is wrong with me omg_) and I'm drowning myself in the awesomesauce shit that is Legolas & Aragorn bromance *freaking dies* *refrains from going on long tangent* But don't worry, I won't stay away _too_ long. Supernatural's my baby. *pats it* At _least_ a week for next chapter. xP

Okay. Sorry for the long AN. Had to chuck in those few things. Drop me a review to say what you thought? Getting into S3 Deano's head after writing S5 Dean… man, but are there stark differences. O.o So did I do our resident bad boy Winchester justice? x)

~iz.


	4. CHAPTER THREE (2010)

**IT ENDS BLOODY**

_A/N – Alright, on to the 2010 timeline now. Heads-up, this one's more talk and speculation and Sammy being confused and Dean being elusive. Yeah. Uh, read on~_

* * *

_I look ahead to all the plans that we made  
__And the dreams that we had  
__I'm in a world that tries to take them away  
__Oh but I'm taking them back_

**~It's Not My Time~ 3 Doors Down**

* * *

**3. There's A Fear In Me**

_[2010]_

It was dark. Still. He was getting quite sick of it now.

That was the first thing Sam's mind registered. The second being immediately to _find Dean_ and that definitely kicked his ass into gear. Eyes snapping open, he pushed himself off the floor and rolled to his knees, staring around anxiously only to start at the sudden exclamation behind him.

"Holy _shit_."

"Dean?" Sam breathed out and spun on the spot, wide eyes seeking out reassurance in the form of his older brother. He found him and they locked eyes, puzzled hazel to apprehensive green, before Sam blinked, shuffling back a pace. "You're not..." he started uncertainly, eyes raking over the man before him. It was Dean... but it wasn't. Not-Dean sat still, staring at him silently as Sam looked him over for recognition. Outwardly, he looked almost the same. But there was something there... a hardness in his face, a sort of deadness in those green eyes that were usually bright with life, that struck something cold inside Sam's chest. The way Dean... or not-Dean... held himself – shoulders braced in readiness for an expected blow, that intense and wary gaze never leaving him – it was _different_.

Sam frowned, sparing the room they were in a disinterested glance, before returning his gaze almost reluctantly to the man who was too much like his brother not to be. The foreboding words of the prostatis slipped through his mind – _"I require your brother, to... teach a much-needed lesson"_ – and he straightened up, shutting down all emotion that exposed him on his face and narrowing his eyes. He thought he saw not-Dean's lips twitch a little, but he ignored it, staring him down with that tough look that ran in the Winchester family.

"What's going on? Who are you?" he demanded.

The other man's lips twisted up into an ironic smile. "You tell me. Who do you think?" he threw back.

Sam hardened his gaze. "What I _know_ is that you're not Dean."

Not-Dean tilted his head slightly to the left, appraising him. "What makes you so sure?"

A derisive huff of laughter escaped him. "You mean other than the fact that I know my brother inside-out, and _you're_ not him? What, you want hard proof? How about the fact that I was just with him in a place that's _not_ here?"

"Huh." Not-Dean ran a hand over his mouth, rubbing absently on the short stubble across his chin. His eyes were tracking the ground, finally focusing on a gun lying not too far away. "So where were you, then?" he continued, reaching over to snag it casually and check the rounds in a swift move that was _so_ Dean-like.

Narrowing his eyes at the easiness surrounding his brother's lookalike now that he had a weapon in his hand, Sam answered cautiously. "Just out of Ohio state..." He hesitated then over giving more information before deciding it probably wouldn't hurt. "Then we got caught by this... uh, shadow-figure and it-"

"Wait." Not-Dean held up a hand to stop him, frowning. "It grabbed you and you weren't even in here?"

"_Here_, as in...?"

"Museum."

"That's what this is..." Sam looked around again, this time paying attention to the ancient relics surrounding them. He shook his head. "We weren't here... but it took us somewhere, a storage room I think, could have been in the same building, I don't know." He glanced at not-Dean. "Can you tell me who – or what – you are now?" He didn't miss the brief flash of something that could have been amusement, but a tad darker, flash in those familiar-yet-not-really green eyes and mentally debated over whether or not it would be worth it to tackle the guy, get his gun. For some reason he wasn't exactly comfortable facing off this dangerous-looking version of his brother practically unarmed.

"So if I tell you I'm your brother, you won't believe me?" he replied with a humourless grin.

Sam rolled his eyes. "Not even a bit."

Not-Dean shook his head, leaning back on his hands and regarding Sam curiously. "Right. How about if I tell you you're about a couple of years ahead of your time?"

That caught his attention right by the tail, and Sam sat up, unable to hide his surprised "_What?_" He stared at the dark figure who resembled his brother before swallowing his doubt and claiming "You're not gonna fool me."

He flinched subtly at the so familiar raised eyebrow, the one that accompanied the look Dean wore which said _"I'm calling bullshit"_ because Sam's poker face never worked on his big brother.

"Two-thousand and ten."

"What?"

"It's the year 2010," the other man rectified with a hint of something that was a mix of dark amusement and mild frustration. Sam couldn't tell, but maybe that was because he was too busy trying to wrap his mind around _2010_.

"How…" Sam cleared his throat and stared steely at not-Dean. "Why should I trust you?"

He laughed quietly. "Could say the same to you." He shrugged then and got to his feet, doing a quick scan of the room. "Considering what that _prostatis_ thing said, though, I'd say you're the real deal."

Sam shook his head in confusion and also stood. "What do you mean, I'm the _real deal_?" he pressed as he followed not-Dean out of the room. He found the man's too-serious demeanour more than a little unnerving and almost subconsciously slipped a hand into his pocket where his flick-knife lay.

Not-Dean slowed at the next corner to peer around it before claiming the coast was clear and continuing on. He glanced back at Sam momentarily and said, "I mean, you're Sam and not some supernatural freak lookalike." He paused then looked at him again, this time more musingly. "Younger, though."

That did nothing to alleviate the questions spinning in his head. He tried to hide the frustration as he tried again. "And this thing caught you then sent me a couple years into the future, _why_ exactly?"

"Some crap about changing destiny or something, I don't know..." he answered vaguely, leading the way up a staircase to what looked like the museum's main hallway.

Sam frowned at that, remembering again what else the _prostatis_ had said. _"You think you can control fate, but really, you are the puppets here. You can't change anything, no matter how hard you try or think you can."_ And his heart skipped a beat as the words registered along with everything that had happened since he'd woken up, and he stopped.

Not-Dean turned to him with an impatient scowl, his eyes roving the corridors with an undeniable urge to get the hell out of there. "What now?"

Sam stared at him – only, this time, instead of seeing a stranger with his brother's face, he saw _his brother_. Older, damaged, colder… but _Dean_. He tilted his head slightly, watching as Dean's eyes narrowed warily when they returned to him. "What the hell _happened_ to you?" he asked quietly.

Dean's eyebrows rose fractionally and he turned away with a snort of disbelief and maybe some morbid humour. "_Now_ you believe it's me?" He shook his head and kept walking with nothing but a _"Not now, man"_ when Sam opened his mouth to push the subject.

Struggling to contain his burning curiosity and the rising feeling of dread in his stomach, Sam let out a sigh but followed silently. He couldn't figure out what exactly had happened, or _why_, but without all the answers he wasn't going to be able to put anything together. And considering how closed-off this Dean was (_about two years older, and what the hell could have happened in that time?_) Sam doubted he'd be _getting_ his answers any time soon.

**XX**

They'd gotten out the museum without any mishaps, sneaking out of the doors like it was an everyday occurrence (which, considering their life, it sort of was) and Sam had watched in impressed silence as Dean easily re-enabled the cameras and sensors that had been cut off, right before they left. He held back his questions as they strode around the building to where the Impala was parked (and it was such a huge relief to see his brother's car as it had always been that Sam had to resist patting the black hood), gleaming under the street lights.

Dean was silent as he got in and started up the engine, so Sam followed his lead, sliding into the passenger seat with a bare sigh. A quick curious glance around showed no visible signs of change in the car, at which he was immensely relieved. This Dean may be different to the one he knew, but he _was_ in there somewhere.

Sam's inspection of the car led to a cautious scrutiny of the dark man next to him. And it was the first thing his eyes fell upon – or _didn't_ fall upon – that made his silence fly out the window. He sat up suddenly, the words tumbling out of his mouth before he could stop them.

"Where is it?"

Startled, Dean had to swerve the car sharply to avoid crashing into a lamp post. He cursed before turning his head to shoot a sharp glare at Sam. "Where's _what_?" he growled. There was a dangerous undercurrent to his words, like he knew what Sam was asking and was just _daring_ him to say it.

Sam frowned, sensing something was _really_ wrong here – aside from the obvious. He wavered for just a moment before his stubbornness took hold and he plunged ahead. "Your amulet. You're not wearing it." _You never take it off_, he added silently. Seeing his brother – whatever 'version' it was of him – without that horned protection charm around his neck threw him off. So accustomed he was to seeing it that its absence was glaringly obvious.

Dean's eyes fixed stubbornly on the road to avoid Sam's intense stare, but his jaw clenched in response, a closed-off expression firmly in place. Sam waited a few moments to see if he would get an answer, deliberated pushing the matter when he didn't and eventually just let it go. For now, anyway. Seeing as he'd already broken the silence – though this strained vibe was hardly an improvement – he figured he'd just go ahead with his other questions. Dean was bound to answer at least some of them.

"So, uh." He shifted in his seat, glancing out at the dark empty roads warily – the feel of those shadows swarming in and capturing him still too fresh for him to relax fully as long as it was still dark out. He didn't need to look at Dean to know his grip on the wheel had undoubtedly tightened as he prepared himself for whatever Sam was going to throw his way this time. Sam continued nonchalantly. "What exactly was that _prostatis_ thing back there? And why take us to the museum? Is it connected to something in there?"

Dean let out a breath. "It's a guardian. Protector of the, uh, Tablet of Destinies." He rubbed his jaw, eyes dark and unreadable. "Didn't like us trying to get rid of the thing, so it trapped us-"

"Wait." Sam's eyebrows furrowed as he thought about something that hadn't crossed his mind in the short time it had been since he'd woken. "'_Us_'? So... I'm... I mean, the me from _this_ time," he said slowly, thinking out loud. He looked to Dean. "Where am I?"

The look he got in return was unexpected – a raised eyebrow that gave Sam the feeling that he was being slow and really should have figured it out by now. He made a face, never liking it when his big brother implied that he was being slow. "What?"

Dean shook his head, and his tone was just a little bit lighter than it had been. "Well, if _you're_ here, then I'd say that my– uh, present-Sam is in _your_ place." He stopped then, the lines around his mouth tightening almost imperceptibly. "That bastard's makin' a point, alright," he added in a mutter.

This raised more questions than it did answers. "But... how?" Sam pressed. "I get the whole point about changing destinies, it's– I got what it was saying there-" he ignored the curious narrowed eyes that flicked his way at that and continued, "But this... You know, going through time, I can get my head around that. But _swapping_ two people from two different times? The _same person_? What-"

"I don't know," Dean cut in before Sam could get too wound up. "But we'll figure it out and get you back, alright?"

Sam blinked, feeling his head spinning as the situation grew the longer he thought about it. He nodded numbly. "Yeah, okay." He took a deep breath, the one thing that had been at the front of his mind ever since _"2010_" breaking through. "So this, 2010, this is our future? The same timeline?"

He didn't think Dean had caught on to exactly what he was asking yet when he nodded, looking wary. "I'd say so... Your year's, what, 2008?"

"March, oh-eight, yeah."

"Two years exactly, then."

Sam swallowed, thinking _two years on_ and _two months left_, hesitating to ask but needing to know. "But you're here," he finally said.

Dean looked across the seat at him, eyes flashing fleetingly with an emotion Sam couldn't decipher before they returned to the road – which, he just noticed, was leading down to a line of motel rooms. "Yeah," Dean eventually replied, not indicating anything else through his expression or tone. Before Sam could push for more answers, he turned the car right into a parking spot and shut it down. "C'mon. We'll get some sleep then get to Bobby's, he can help us figure this thing out," he said over his shoulder as he got out.

Sam looked blankly at the door as it shut. He knew what Dean was doing. He wasn't an idiot; after being around Dean most of his life, he could tell what his brother was really saying behind his words. The two of them could probably figure it out themselves – Sam knew they wouldn't have been in the museum after that Tablet if they hadn't known details – but Dean suggesting they stay with Bobby was more than about getting answers. He wanted to stay low, keep Sam away from something if the short answers he'd been giving were any indication. And what better way to do that than at their old friend's place?

Sam shook his head, glancing up at the sound of the trunk closing. He slowly opened his door and got out, leaning against the car for a second. It was comforting, knowing that whatever changes happened in a couple of years, the car – their home – didn't. His eyes trailed over the hood to watch Dean hitch his bags over his shoulder and stride inside the motel in front of them.

_Hell_, he thought numbly. _Two months ahead of my time, Dean's deal is up._

But if Dean's still here two years later... does that mean Sam can save him?

* * *

**A/N:** Thanks to **xxDodo** for helping me sorta dig through the block I got past the first half here. *salutes* Cheers, bro.

Tried to stick true to season 3 Sam here. His persistence in getting answers is as present as ever, as well as him being like a dog with a bone once he finds out a possibility that his brother's deal can be averted. Had to mix those with how he would react to this Dean differently to the brother he knows. Clearly, they're both trying to find their footing here. Sam with all the questions arising from his situation and the changes he sees in his brother, and Dean with how careful he can be with his answers without giving too much away.

Of course, Sam being like a dog with a bone, he's not gonna be letting anything go too easily. The issue with the amulet, for one (oh, Dean's just gonne _love_ that...), but first and foremost, how is Dean not in Hell right now. Add those to the severity of their current situation (oncoming Apocalypse, demons and angels on their tails, the usual) and... yeah, he's in for a helluva ride.

Would love to hear what you thought. :) Review, please?

~izzy.


	5. CHAPTER FOUR (2008)

**IT ENDS BLOODY**

_A/N – Writing fics is a very good way to take your mind off RL matters that you'd rather not dwell over. So... here's the next chapter. x)_

_Also, I guess I should give a big special thanks to my mates for reviewing last chapter. xD __**xxDodo, RemyMcKwakker, **__and __**Renae Shnucumbs**__ – you guys are awesome and your reviews are all that is good in the world. :3 They make me all happy and floaty and - *waves hand meaningfully* ya know. Ego boosters and hilarious comments/reactions all wrapped up in awesometastic reviews that make my life. :P Thanks! *fist bumps you all*_

* * *

_The tightrope that I'm walking just sways and ties  
__The devil as he's talking with those angel's eyes  
__And I just want to be there when the lightning strikes  
__And the saints go marching in_

_**~Us Against The World~Coldplay**_

* * *

**4. Through Chaos As It Swirls**

_[2008]_

Waking up to near-complete darkness after what had just happened startled Sam, and he rolled up onto his knees with a gasp. The phantom feeling of shadows constricting around him faded as his mind caught up with the rest of him and his eyes informed him that he wasn't in the same room he'd just been in.

Before his thought process could go any further than that, though, the unfortunately familiar feeling of a sharpened metal knife on his throat stopped him short. Sam stilled, mind scrambling to get a hold of this new threat, but then froze completely at his would-be assailant's words.

"Who the hell are you?"

Or, to be more precise, the undoubtedly recognizable voice that spoke the words. He automatically turned his head to confirm what his brain was trying to comprehend, but stopped when the knife dug in a bit deeper. Sam swallowed, opened his mouth then shut it again, because _what the hell_.

"Answer me! Where's my brother?" the man growled. He removed the knife when Sam still didn't – _couldn't_ – answer and instead shoved at him so he could meet his eyes with a fierce glare.

Sam's breath caught in his throat. This was _not_ possible. That _prostatis_ must have been messing with his head, twisting things up. Because... this wasn't... couldn't be...

"Dean?" he breathed out, hesitant and wide-eyed. He watched as his brother's – _was it his brother?_ – face blanked out, his expression shutting down expertly, only his eyes remaining cold and angry. Sam blinked up at him in wonder and confusion. He may not know what exactly was going on but there was no denying that this _was_ Dean. _Somehow_, impossibly, but it was.

"How do you..." Dean scowled, hand clenching tighter against his boot-knife as if he could fight away the onslaught of confusion and suspicion that was making itself known through his green eyes. He took one step forward, staring down at Sam. "Who are you?"

That elicited a short disbelieving laugh from Sam, but he cut it off when the glare returned and the knife rose just a little. He shook his head, not knowing what to say, not knowing what was _safe_ to say, because if this was Dean then- "Wait." Sam's head shot up and he narrowed his eyes at his brother, studying him. "You're..." _Younger_, his brain supplied, but he couldn't get the word out. _How?_ Sam scrabbled to his feet, keeping his distance when Dean kept the knife in front of him threateningly, still scowling in suspicion. Sam took a breath, looked around the unfamiliar room, noting the dusty shelves and boxes and getting an inkling of an idea of his whereabouts. "Where are we?" he asked instead.

"How the hell should I know?" Dean didn't move his eyes away. His stance was tense, ready to pounce at the slightest wrong move. Sam stayed carefully still and tried to play it casual.

"Well- then, uh, what-"

Dean didn't let him continue. "You didn't answer my question," he said, voice low and dangerous.

Sam let out a breath, raising his hands slowly and nodding at the knife aimed his way. "Alright, I'll tell you, just- why don't you put that down first?" He watched, keeping his face carefully impassive, as Dean hesitantly lowered his hand. Green eyes searched his, the puzzled look giving way to disbelief at what he found in Sam's open, honest face. Sam met his gaze squarely and said, "I'm- it's me. Sam. From, I think, your future." He held his breath, hoping Dean would not refute his claims immediately.

His frown deepening, Dean took a few more steps forward until he was just a couple feet away from Sam. He crossed his arms across his chest, staring the other Winchester down in an intense way that Sam knew to mean he was trying to read him. Sam added quietly, persistent as always, "Just... trust me. Please. I know it sounds crazy, but..."

Dean snorted. "I lived through a time loop that had me dying every day. _That_ was crazy." He cocked an eyebrow, still looking sceptical but just a little bit less suspicious. "Answer me one question."

Sam tilted his head slightly, curious and not a little surprised at how seemingly easy that was. "Shoot."

"Where's my Sam, if you're future him?"

Sam sighed, ran a hand through his hair as he thought it through. The answer seemed quite clear cut in his head but the schematics behind it were slightly more complex. The how's and why's he didn't have all the answers to. And while he knew that his brother – both the one he now knew and the one from years past – cared more for results than explanations, this would need some sort of proof.

He glanced around again, slightly uneasy at lingering in a room where the moonlight filtering in from the high windows cast ripples of shadows around. A quick look at Dean's impatient expression urged him to dive into a shortened account of what he'd gathered, not giving his brother many chances to interrupt.

"Look, once we're out of here, I'll give you all the details," Sam added at the end, trying to appease him. He _really_ didn't want to linger here – especially after finding out that the _prostatis_ had been here, somehow capturing the brothers in _this_ year as well.

Sam paused on his way to the doorway, causing Dean to look at him questioningly.

"What year is it?" he asked.

Dean cocked an eyebrow. His expression clearly indicated that he didn't think that was important in any way. Still, he answered with an air of vague exasperation at Sam's insistent look. "It's 2008. Tenth of March." His eyes narrowed when Sam stiffened at the date and he faced him fully, confronting, "What?"

Sam averted his eyes, making to keep on going out the door with a muttered "Nothing", but Dean only scowled and stood in his way. Sam huffed a breath and met his glare with his own impatient one. He waved a hand ahead at the dark hallway outside the room. "Can we do this later? We still need to get out of here, and the security system's still up."

Dean didn't look like he liked it, but he nodded curtly and stepped out, keeping an eye out for cameras as they made their way silently down the corridor. Sam's senses were on full alert as they reached the main foyer with no incidents – until the hair at the back of his neck stood up and he cursed softly, reaching out a hand to grab Dean's sleeve and effectively stopping him from taking the first step into the main hall.

"Sensory detectors," he hissed in his brother's ear, nodding at the small red lights blinking above them. They were stationed atop the displays lining the walls and the only way out the front door was through this room. Sam swore again, mentally, and tried to think of how to get to one of the side doors from here.

Beside him, Dean was patting down his pockets – coming up empty besides his knife and a couple of odds and ends useful for lock-picking and not much else. He glanced sideways at Sam who was still deep in thought. "You got a gun on you?"

Startled, Sam turned to him, seeing the deadly serious look in his eyes. "You're not gonna shoot them off!" he exclaimed in exasperation, only just keeping his voice low.

"Why the hell not?" Dean demanded. "Do you have another way out of here?"

Sam sighed harshly and raked a hand through his hair again, scouring the place with keen eyes. "Not really," he admitted. "There's a side entrance, but I'm not sure where."

Dean stared him down in silence, arching an eyebrow expressively. Sam shoved aside the sudden random urge to cross his arms in a defiant kid-brother way that he hadn't done in years.

"No," he said, adamant. "You do that, there's still cameras. They'll catch us while we're running out."

Dean's expression didn't change. In fact, he looked almost bored. "Officially dead, remember?"

Sam groaned, sensing this wasn't going to go anywhere. "That'll change as soon as they find us, and _I'm_ not even supposed to be here! I can't get caught by the authorities in the wrong year."

"We've made getaways before," Dean said impatiently. "I can- oh. Shit." He stopped and ran a hand over his mouth, turning away to glare around at seemingly nothing.

"What?" Sam asked warily.

"My car's not here," replied Dean, his voice flat with anger.

Sam winced. Okay, that was a definite setback. But it also made Dean's 'getaway' plan harder. "Alright, so..." He took a deep breath, stepping back away from the foyer room. "We improvise. Stay away from the cameras and find another exit. Come on." He began leading the way, steps swift and sure.

Dean muttered under his breath behind him what sounded suspiciously like something about '_following orders_', but trailed along. His silence was sullen and Sam could take a fair guess at the many curses running through his head now at their situation.

"Why are there no guards?" Dean asked quietly after a few moments of sneaking through corridors and side rooms.

"It's a small museum, and besides, the security system's enough to hold off anyone trying to sneak in," replied Sam in a whisper. He added wryly as an afterthought, "And strong enough to trap anyone _stuck_ in." He slowed his gait, recognising this part of the museum. A couple of turns ahead and they'd be in the room that held the Tablet.

And... he remembered quite distinctly that the area was _heavily _guarded – an artefact that valuable was hardly going to just be sitting there in a mildly protected room. This served a new problem, because apart from retracing their steps and searching for another way, they could go no further without risking the chance of being detected.

"Problem?" Dean asked after taking a look at his face. His tone was almost resigned, like he was just waiting for something to pop up and make this whole thing even worse.

Sam took a breath, contemplated their choices for a moment, then nodded. "Ah, yeah. See, round there-" he gestured in the general direction of 'there', "Is the, well, it's called the Tablet of Destinies, and it's what the _prostatis_ is protecting. And there's an exit that we could have gotten to through that room but the thing is-"

"We can't get through without being detected," Dean surmised. "Guess that leaves us with no choice, huh?" Sam shot a sideways look at him – that undertone of pleasurable anticipation in his voice did not bode well with Sam's history of his brother's supposed well-planned escapes. And before his deal, Dean had been just that little bit more wild with his plans.

It was such a change from the Dean that he'd gotten used to that the shift in attitude was more startling and – maybe just a little – heart-warming than it probably should have been. 'Heart-warming' in the sense that _this_ Dean still pulled risky moves plainly for the thrill of the chase, rather than a weary bone-deep hopelessness which had unfortunately become a common drive for future-Dean's (Sam's present-Dean, and he should really take a moment to ponder over what he could refer to each one as, because right now his past/present tenses were mildly jumbled) plots.

Still. That so did not mean that Sam was in any way looking forward to this. Because that familiar-but-almost-forgotten glimmer in his brother's green eyes usually (and by usually he meant _always_) led to lots of running, chaos, law enforcement, and – on the odd occasion – something exploding in the background.

...That made their lives sound like some action-packed Hollywood thriller. Sam smirked to himself as he reluctantly (absolutely _not_ anticipating or agreeing with this, remember) handed Dean his handgun and any extra bullets he had in his jacket pocket.

And as Dean took careful aim at one strategically-placed camera, Sam was willing to bet the Impala that Stallone had next to _nothing_ on their lives.

* * *

**A/N:** *pumps fist in air* Hell-to-the-freaking-yeah! xD Sorry, that last bit kinda got me excited, and then I realised I'll have to leave the action for the next '08 chapter because, well um, one – this will end up too long if I can't decide where to stop, and two – I don't actually know if they're gunna get away or get caught and escape or get caught and _not_ escape or... well, yeah. I needa mull over that for a bit. xP

Meanwhile, we shall head over to the 2010 timeline next chapter... Back to tense silences; a curious, suspicious, anticipatory, persistent, confused Sammy; a Dean who tries to avoid answering as many questions as he can (until... *sneaky grin* he is faced with the force of ze puppy eyes! Muahaha.); aaand... last and definitely not freaking least- BOBBY. :D

Also, starting next week which is Monday which is three nights, two days, I really really really should start preparing for getting back to school_ because shit this is year 12, HSC year, I needa get ahead or I will get overloaded and lost and just die _*panics* *forces panic away* So yeah. But knowing me (which I unfortunately do), I'll be taking any moment of procrastination that I can to write whatever tickles my fancy (...I don't even know if that's a phrase and if it is I am never ever using that again and can we just pretend that never happened) so... yes. *blinks* This is a rather long AN, innit?

*ends A/N*

**WAIT**. ALSO. I would absolutely love it if you **review**_. I will shower you with love and chocolates and Sammy_. *fixes you with serious stare* And if you have anything you wanna see – a situation for the bros (either pair) to get stuck in, a truth/secret to come out ('s long as it's nothing _too_ huge, obviously), a reaction to something... Just let me know. I have a few things in mind, but no fixed plot, really. No promises that I'll be able to fit it in but I'll try. ;)

'kay, tis all for now. :D Thaaaank you for reading! *waves*

~iz.


	6. CHAPTER FIVE (2010)

**IT ENDS BLOODY**

_A/N- Heyy, lookit, an update. xD Aka, procrastination... not that it matters, I've got a five-day weekend to study so might as well write a bit. :P And! I got kinda sick of feelings and depth and emption, so this chapter has action! :D Yay. Was fun. Hope you like it~_

_(also this song is like total love. *pokes it* Thriving Ivory. Damn. Best lyrics ever.)_

* * *

_See I have to believe that there's more than this seems  
__More than a soul in a boat in a sea of sinking dreams  
__And I have to be sure that there's gonna be a cure  
_'_Cause somewhere down the line, I lost that part of me that's pure_

**~Where We Belong~ Thriving Ivory**

* * *

**5. Too Far Out, In Too Deep**

_[2010]_

Needless to say, neither of the brothers slept much that night. It would have probably just been smarter to drive on, but after watching Dean drop face first into the bed closest to the door (he added that to the mental list of things that _hadn't_ changed – it was depressingly short compared to what was different so far) to avoid Sam's stare and the questions bubbling under the surface, Sam got the message.

His brother had always been a master at avoiding confrontations.

Sam sighed and sat gingerly on the edge of the other bed, taking the chance to get his bearings. His mind shied away from thoughts about how much darker Dean was now, the shock of the difference unsettling him. He didn't want to think about what could have happened to cause that. A part of him thought he knew what it could have been, but he shut that part up before it could get a whisper in.

But there was one thing that he couldn't _not_ ponder over. The fact that Dean hardly ever took off his amulet willingly made its absence here that much more puzzling. Judging by the way he had shut off completely when Sam had pointed it out earlier, he figured it was just the tip of the iceberg for the list of 'taboo' topics he couldn't bring up. Not without being snapped at, anyway.

Sam sighed and rubbed his face tiredly. He glanced out the grimy window to the silent car park. The single street light flickered weakly against the dark, making a shiver run down his spine. It was nothing, but the paranoia was still there. Side effect of being snatched away by _shadows_, of all things. He took a breath. At least the darkness here was just that – darkness. There was no depth to it, no eerie sort of _life_. They were safe here, for the moment.

So caught up in his convincing self-argument as he was, Sam didn't notice the change in Dean's breathing until his grumbled sleep-filled words startled him.

"Stop thinking so much and go to sleep, dude."

Sam flashed him a sheepish grin but complied, sliding under the covers. He peered across the room at Dean, seeing that he was already halfway to returning to sleep, before burrowing into the covers (expertly ignoring the thought of where they'd been) and letting his own eyes slide shut.

Tomorrow, they'll head off to Bobby's and figure this out. Tomorrow, they'll get some answers.

**XX**

What neither of them was quite expecting, though, was a setback.

"We're being tailed."

Sam looked up from his mindless gazing out the window. His eyebrows furrowed in confusion and concern. "What?"

Dean nodded at the rearview mirror. "Dude's been following us since the turn-off into the highway."

Sam glanced behind them, spotting the navy-coloured Mustang getting closer. He narrowed his eyes at the two burly men inside. "They look familiar to you?" he asked.

Dean shot him a quizzing look, then chanced a look at the men too. He shrugged. "I don't know. Why, do _you_ recognise them?"

Sam tilted his head in thought. "Not sure- hey, what the hell are they doing?" His eyes widened in alarm.

Dean cursed. The Mustang had sped up suddenly and he had to press harder on the gas to avoid a real life game of Bumper Cars. "The fuck?!" he exclaimed angrily, speeding up to put some distance between them. It was no use, though, because the Mustang sped up too, matching him even as he tried swerving to throw them off.

All it took was one wrong move. One sudden skid to the right where the road turned left and the Impala was instantly crammed between the very side of the road, where it disappeared into mammoth trees that would crush them if they hit one, and speeding side-by-side with the Mustang, the driver of whom kept pressing them closer and closer to the edge – until Dean muttered a _"screw this_". Without warning, he eased off the gas and the Impala slowed suddenly, letting the Mustang speed ahead. Dean smirked and then caught up, easily staying right behind them with every shift in speed and turn, while he and Sam debated what to do.

"Who do you think they are?" Sam asked straight away.

Dean shrugged. "Hell if I know. Everyone's after our asses so, really, could be anyone."

Sam stared. "Well. That's... great."

"But I think they're hunters."

Sam's jaw dropped. "Wait, _what_? Hunters?" He shook his head, baffled. "So when you say 'everyone', you seriously mean _everyone_?" _What the hell happened_ is what he really wants to know.

"Yeah, pretty much."

"Okay. Okay, so..." He stared out at the bumper of the car in front of them, mind swirling. "What now?"

Dean was silent for a moment, before he pulled out his phone and quickly dialled a number. Sam frowned in utter confusion as the person didn't answer and Dean swore in frustration. "Who was that?" he pressed.

Dean replied immediately, "Cas." Then, realising the name didn't mean anything to Sam when he just blinked, lost, added carefully, "A friend."

Sam's eyebrows rose. "A friend who could have somehow helped us even though we're in the middle of a freeway?"

The smirk he got was amused, the reply short and cryptic. "Yep."

Uncomprehending, Sam just stared blankly.

"Don't worry," Dean shot him a look and took pity on him. "I've got a plan."

"Brilliant," Sam muttered. Changed or not, he knew his brother's plans. And hell if they were anything but _insane_. "Lay it on me."

**XX**

The plan... didn't go exactly _as planned_. Actually, it didn't really _go_ anywhere at all.

They had to ditch it as soon as the Mustang swerved to block off the road sideways and stopped, making them screech to a halt as the two men got out and approached the Impala. Dean scowled and, grabbing his gun, stepped out to face them. Sam followed suit.

"Sam and Dean Winchester," the driver of the car said, a statement instead of a greeting, his eyes sizing them up. Sam held his gaze fiercely, hoping the men didn't know them well enough to notice any changes. He shouldn't have worried, though, as Tall Dark and Burly smirked over at his partner. "Not so impressive in the flesh, are they?"

The blond-haired man sneered. "Didn't expect them to be."

Dean growled. "Let's cut to the chase, fellas. Who the hell are you and what the fuck do you want?" he demanded.

Twin grins crept onto their faces and Sam knew they were fucked the next second. Why?

Because a blink of both their eyes revealed horribly familiar black.

"You sons'abitches don't give up, do you," his brother muttered, deftly pulling out a jagged knife from inside his jacket. Sam recognised Ruby's demon-killing knife but didn't question it. This wasn't the time.

The two demons charged them, Burly going for Dean and Blondie aiming for Sam, who automatically got into a fighting stance. At least these guys didn't have the demon mojo that always had them pinned against walls or tables... as if their strength and speed wasn't enough.

He stepped right into the offensive, throwing punches and lashing out with leg swipes, not giving the demon a chance to get a shot in. He heard a grunt of impact from the other fighting pair but didn't look over, only hoped it wasn't Dean, and fell back to avoid a sucker-punch that would've knocked him clean out. He retaliated with a feint and a kick to the chest, which the demon caught and used to flip him over. Sam hit the ground hard, the breath knocked out of him as he landed on his back. His eyes widened as the demon stepped over him, smirking, and he moved quickly to roll away from the hit and crouch up, falling into a sweep that made Blondie's legs collapse under him. Getting to his feet and moving a few steps back, he used the moment to catch his breath.

The demon got to his feet with an impatient scowl, but didn't advance yet, instead taking to circling Sam, who kept pace and didn't let him get within striking distance. His ribs hurt, definitely bruised, but he pushed it aside as the demon spoke up. "You know you can't keep hiding."

Refusing to take the bait, Sam stayed silent, eyes never leaving his opponent and ears open to the sounds of Dean's fight with Burly.

It didn't deter him. "He's gonna find you sooner or later," the demon added maliciously, a slow smirk unfurling at his lips. "And then guess who'll be the Devil's bitch?"

It was enough to make Sam freeze, his mind to blank out, and almost cost him his life. Sheer instinct made him duck away to avoid the hit as the demon was suddenly in his face, but it would have been futile if Dean hadn't come in at that moment, charging from behind the demon and driving the knife into his back with enough force to almost run them both into the ground. Sam watched, dumbstruck, as he twisted the knife with a look of cold hatred, watched the flickering light fade as the demon slid off the knife and onto the ground, much like his partner who was now lying in a puddle of his own blood a few feet away.

Sam swallowed and stood up. His breathing was heavy and uneven and he couldn't get his thoughts straight. He just stared at Dean until the older Winchester finished wiping the bloodied dagger on the demon's clothes and looked up to meet his eyes. The cold look disappeared into wary concern when he saw Sam was white with shock.

"What's-" he started.

But Sam shook his head numbly, finding the energy to move his legs and return to the Impala, dropping heavily into the seat and slamming the door shut. He took a few calming breaths, trying to get his heart rate down, but it was racing and the demon's words wouldn't stop echoing in his head.

He didn't know what it meant. _What did he mean? What's he talking about?_

He heard Dean getting in next to him, heard the driver's door shut and the engine being revved, but the car didn't move yet. He knew Dean was waiting for him to say something, so he did.

"Let's get to Bobby's," he muttered, not meeting Dean's eyes. The sick feeling in his stomach bubbled and he couldn't help but think that shit was about to get so much more serious if they didn't find a way out now.

He could do with something familiar right now. Answers could wait.

"We'll figure it out," Dean said quietly as he pulled out.

* * *

**A/N: **And, because I promised **xxDodo**, here's a spoof-type scene where Cas isn't off drinking himself silly because Daddy turned out to be a dead-beat, and he does meet Sam.

...

_A flutter of sound alerted Sam to his presence as soon as Dean hung up the phone with 'Cas'. He turned, stunned, only to let out a startled yelp at the dark-haired man in a trenchcoat who had suddenly appeared in the backseat._

_Dean stifled a snicker. "Hey, man."_

_The guy (what the hell was he?) turned oddly intense blue eyes to him. "Hello, Dean," he intoned before returning his gaze to Sam, who was trying not to freak out. "Hello, Sam."_

"_W-what... who...?" he stammered, glancing at his brother for help. "Dean?"_

"_Dean," the other guy said at the same time. "I do not think that this is, in fact, Sam."_

"_Yeah?" Dean's lips twitched._

"_Yes," Cas said solemnly. He tilted his head at Sam, blue eyes narrowed. "He appears to have..." he hesitated. "Grown smaller."_

_Dean snorted at that. Sam's feeling of lost-ness increased._

"_And I believe his hair is shorter."_

_Sam's hand flew up to his hair almost defensively. "What?"_

_Cas fixed him with a very serious stare. "You make a poor imposter."_

_Dean chuckled. "Get an up-size, Sasquatch," he added helpfully._

_Sam just slumped back in his seat, now more thoroughly confused than ever._

...

*pats Sammy on the head* poor guy.

...I, uh, didn't manage to fit in the doses of protective big-bro!Dean, though, sorry guys. xP *mental note to add in next time* Aaand didn't get around to Bobby. Ah well. Next chapter's also exciting. With law enforcement and kickass Winchesters. (The 2008 ones, anyway).

Reviews feed the muse and the muse is one hungry thing ;)

Laters~

iz.


	7. CHAPTER SIX (2008)

**IT ENDS BLOODY**

_A/N – Another chapter? I know, I know, what's going on with the world, Izzy's updating twice in one week. I dunno, mates, it's been a productive week xD And this is kinda short 'cause I didn't wanna delve into deeper matters after these scenes so... here you go :) _

* * *

_Every morning, I'm staring shadows in the eye  
__Oh good morning, will you just wait until I die?  
__Tell everybody, tell everybody,  
__Brother, sister, the ending is coming_

**~Fallen~ Imagine Dragons**

* * *

**6. We Are Fallen**

_[2008]_

"I can't believe we're doing this," Sam muttered as he ran.

"Aw c'mon," Dean shot him an easy grin despite the fact that there were _alarm bells_ and _police sirens_ blaring in the background. "Loosen up, live a little!"

"Tell me that when we're behind prison bars!" Sam snarked at him.

The good news was that they were out of the museum – Dean had shot out both the cameras in the room as well as the lock on the door in quick succession, and they'd made their dash for freedom – but the bad news was that there seemed to be a police station right around the corner because no sooner than the museum's alarms had gone off at the violation, the sounds of _multiple_ police sirens had filled the air.

They ran out onto the street, looking around for-

"This one!" Dean pulled at Sam's sleeve as he rushed to a dark Camaro just sitting there, ready for the taking. He made short work of the locked doors, sliding in behind the wheel and hotwiring it just as Sam pulled his door shut.

And in a second, they were off.

"Where'd you leave the Impala?" Sam asked, glancing behind them to see a police car round the corner and, seeing them speeding off, begin its pursuit.

Dean hesitated, eyes shifting from the road to the mirrors and back as he turned a sharp corner. "We were on a highway when it got us..."

Sam started to inquire further but stopped himself. It wasn't important – as long as Dean knew where to go from here, they were good. You know, after they'd successfully avoided the cops.

"There's another one," he reported, spotting the second flash of blue-and-red lights on their tail.

_The more the merrier_.

Dean gave him a warning, "Hold on" a second before pressing down on the accelerator only to swerve into a side lane before they'd really started to speed up beyond control. Sam steadied himself with a hand on the dashboard, answering Dean's "Town layout, _now_" automatically, listing the main roads that led out of town and leaving Dean to put his insane getaway skills to work.

"Where'd they go? They're not behind us anymore," said Sam after a few more turns, not daring to hope that they'd lost them. Hope led to disappointment too often; he'd learned that early on.

"Don't know, I'm trying to make a detour out to the-_shit_," Dean hissed, turning the wheel just in time to miss the police car that had just sped out of a side street in front of them and barely missing a collision. The lights and sirens were gone. Dean quickly shifted the gear to reverse, backing out with a crazy co-ordination that somehow worked without making them crash into every lamp post on the way. Sam watched in wide-eyed trepidation as he reversed into a driveway right as the cop car advanced on them, and then returned the gear to normal before pressing the pedal to the metal and letting the Camaro practically _fly_ out of there. This lane was narrower and darker than the streets; Sam had to wonder – if somewhat vaguely amidst the chaos – if Dean really knew where he was going or if he was just trying to throw the cops off. As they veered off onto another road, Sam spotted not two, but _three_ cars behind them.

He pointed this fact out to Dean, who only smirked and said, "All right – let's end this party." He reached into his jacket with one hand, pulling out Sam's gun and handing it to him. "Aim for the wheels."

Sam took it silently, reloaded it and then wound down his window. He turned in his seat, facing backwards, arms braced on the open window and ready to take aim and fire. He shot Dean a quizzing look and his brother nodded once, taking the next right turn sharply. Sam didn't waste the chance, fired off two shots at the first car, a third at the back wheel as it turned with them. One missed its mark but the effect of the first two was immediate – a high-pitched _screech_ and it spun wildly with the turn as the two right-side tires gave out. The cars behind it had to pull to a sudden stop to avoid crashing and the Winchesters shared a victorious grin.

"What do ya say we blow this joint?"

"Let's go." Switching the safety on, Sam stored his handgun in the glove compartment, and then leaned back in the seat as they sped off out of town.

There was no denying the exhilaration – he'd missed this way too much.

**XX**

A couple of hours later and they were back in the familiarity of the Impala, the town and the Camaro far behind them (their prints carefully wiped off the car). Sam marvelled at the difference in _mood_ in the car now. He'd gotten so used to the tense silences between him and his brother, anger and hurt boiling under the surface and their words edgy, tones short and clipped. Mostly on Dean's side because Sam was trying, God knows he was trying to get back on his brother's good side, but he wasn't exactly getting any help on that front.

Now, though... it was light, it was _easy_. The Dean of the past was so much freer; he didn't have half the burdens that Sam's Dean carried. And it made a hell of a difference.

"Okay, I gotta ask," Dean said after the Queen song on the radio finished. He glanced at Sam, his lips quirking a little, and waved a hand in the general direction of his head. "What's with the hair, dude?"

Sam stared. "What?"

"I'm just askin'. I mean, I get that you're secretly a girl and all, but c'mon, there's _long_ and then there's-"

"Shut up, man," Sam grumbled, running a hand through his hair automatically.

Dean looked too amused to completely let it go, though, and a few moments later, he added, "What'd you do, anyway, eat double the Wheaties for breakfast every day?" He shot Sam a sideways look with a mutter of, "Friggin' Sasquatch."

Sam laughed in surprise, shaking his head. It made Dean smirk over at him.

"So you _do_ still know how to laugh. Good to know."

"Lay off," Sam said easily, relaxing back against the door. His eyes flicked around the Impala's interior, observing and taking note of it all. The car was the one thing that had hardly changed, bar the odd scratch or tear in the seats, all of which Dean had fixed. His attention returned to Dean, though, when he spoke up again, this time more serious.

"So that shadow thing... it sent him where exactly?"

Sam hesitated. "I'm- he'd be with yo- with Dean then. Uh, 2010. He'll watch out for him, so..." he said awkwardly, stumbling over the third-person phrases and so not realising what exactly he'd said until Dean accidentally swerved the car in his shock and, after righting it, turned wide eyes to Sam.

"What do you mean?"

Startled, Sam looked at him, eyebrows furrowed. "What do I-?"

"I'm still- I mean, I don't..." Dean shook his head, scowling when the words refused to come out right. He took a breath, eyes fixed on the road. "I'm _alive_?" The tenor of wary hope was unmistakable, and Sam felt like someone had sucker-punched him in the gut.

He blew out a short breath, turning away. "Yeah." He cleared his throat. "You're, uh- yeah."

Dean swore softly. "But the deal-?"

"I can't," Sam said weakly, fighting the urge to spill everything, to promise to stop it somehow. "I don't think I can... say anything. It's, uh, it's complicated," he finished, rather lamely, he thought.

Judging by the look Dean shot him, he thought so too, but he dropped the subject. Silence grew between them, heavier than before, tense on Sam's end and curious on Dean's.

Sam sighed to himself. How much of the truth could he reveal – if any? He was still slightly surprised that Dean's suspicion seemed to have faded completely, but then realised that the car chase and then the light ribbing had been some sort of test. Dean knew him well, even when he was a couple years from his future.

* * *

**A/N:-** *sighs* I love season 3 Dean so much. He's half the reason that season's my favourite (though, I don't know, season 8 is freaking awesome). :3 *cuddles him* can i keep him.

I... don't have anything to say, really. EXCEPT. Very important, must not forget again...

*clears throat* I shall direct y'all to a brilliant(ly hilarious) piece of work called... *drumroll* _**Don't Lose Your Grip**_! Co-written by moi and **xxDodo**, 'tis a fic of randomness and hilarity, and is now all up, soooo... what're you waiting for? Check it out (it's on Dodo's page, and there's also a link right at the top of my profile bio) aaaaand kindly drop us a review and share your thoughts. ;) It'd be muchly appreciated, that thing took months of ingenuity/hyperness put into writing.

*end advertising*

Alrighty, _now_ I'm done. :D Would love it if you **reviewed**. It'll make my day ;)

Laters~

Iz.


End file.
